Bitched

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It had been months since I last saw Onika, in person at least.

I say that because I can't stop seeing her in my dreams, can't stop cumming with her beautiful face in my mind

She was like a cancer, taking over my body until I was completely consumed by her.

I wasn't me, my game was off, grades dropping.

It was so bad that my coach recommended me to her niece, a therapist.

"I don't want nobody judging me." I told her

"Good thing she won't. You see she does this thing where she doesn't read the report they give her, she just meets them and advises them based off that." I looked at her blankly.

"Studies show it's more effective." She said giving me an encouraging smile. "Would I do anything to put you into harms way?" My coach asked me and I knew she was being serious.

She was like my second mom when mine took graveyard shifts at the hospital to provide for us. She took me home after every game, made sure I knew I had a support system

I trusted her with my life, I was just a little skeptical about this therapy shit.
Black people don't go to therapy.

Still I knew better to question her further. She told me she'd make some calls and 3 days later she texted appointment information.

I walked into the skyrise building heading towards the receptionist. "Hello, do you have an appointment?" She said

"Yes ma'am." I said

"What's your name sweetie" She asked, her keyboard clacking away. "Beyonce Knowles" I responded.

After a few moments she spoke. "Top floor, Dr. Maraj office is the lone door at the end of the hallway."

I thanked her before making my way to the elevator. It took about 10 minutes to get to the top, Where the hallway and lone door sat.

I approached before knocking. "Come in." A voice said from the other side. A familiar voice. I shook it off as this happened several times before.

I pushed the door open, closing it behind me before I saw the familiar face to the familiar voice.

"Nicki?"
"Bey?"

We spoke at the same time, shock plastered on both of our faces, Before Onika quickly regained herself.

She cleared her throat as I stood there, shocked and confused.

I looked around her homely office. She had a green Fritz Hansen egg chair across from a blue sofa that sat on a wall, A white rug in front of it.

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